


measure of cruelty

by spheeris1



Category: Shoujo Kakumei Utena | Revolutionary Girl Utena
Genre: F/F, Light Angst, Sensuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-16
Updated: 2013-03-16
Packaged: 2017-12-05 11:38:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/722858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spheeris1/pseuds/spheeris1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anthy takes the bitter and so she steals some sweet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	measure of cruelty

~ ~

These things that twist and turn inside of you – blades sliding against one another or the breaking of your bones – you’ve grown used to this feeling, haven’t you? And so the many fingers that plunder through your hair, all bound and beautiful, cut into your scalp and you stifle a moan that is one part pleasure, one part pain.

You’ve taken your measure of cruelty – rusty spoon still resting on your tongue - and so you swallow it down.

/

She is not foolish enough to think that he is not aware. But even false princes must sleep – now and again – and so his eyes remain closed underneath mechanical stars and his face is covered by a lavender curtain as he dreams of castles yet to be found.

And Utena is asleep as well, curled into the sheets like a child.

And that makes things all the easier.

/

There is the pretty way her neck extends – like a colt stretching its head upward and towards the sun – but it is dark out here and the engine purrs like a cat about to pounce; there is the pretty way her lips part and Utena’s breath smells like roses and Anthy isn’t sure if this makes sense or if this is terrifying…

…but the tires fly along this highway to nowhere and even with calyx eyes closed against this dreadful breeze, Utena still says her name – not a long-lost Dios, not a wicked whisper of Akio, not a savior in sheep’s clothing – Utena still says ‘Anthy’ like it means something wonderful, like it means something more than just a curse…

…and Anthy isn’t sure if this makes sense or if this is terrifying.

/

“Shhh… it is all-right… I’ve got you, I’ve got you…”

As if she were a giver and not a taker, as if she were honest and not a liar, as if she were going to save someone and not damn them… 

…as if she were in love and not just drowning.

Anthy pulls this body close and Utena’s kiss is cloying and sweet and special and horrible. And it feels like her skin is splitting open and it feels like her heart is shattering – it is blades sliding, it is bones breaking, it is pleasure, it is pain – and pink jet-trails stream across this black sky right as Anthy’s eyes roll back and she hopes… oh she hopes and prays and begs and thinks like a woman instead of a wound… that these swords do not pierce Utena’s body as she comes.

/

She is not foolish enough to think that he is not aware.

There is fear in his gaze – like always – but Utena is as blank as a sheet of new paper the next morning (perhaps the smile is a little tired around the corners, perhaps she blushes unexpectedly when Anthy touches her hand, perhaps perhaps perhaps…) and the game starts anew.

/

And these things twist and turn inside of you; they slice you up and they lay you out and you practice your brittle smile and you weave a spell or two.

And you take your measure of cruelty.

And so you swallow it down.

/

(end)


End file.
